Monday, 27 April 2009

Ever since class nine, almost everyday my life at 2 pm would reduce to a bullock cart chase and then a ride on a huge jalopy with my arms swinging on the rods, perpendicular to each other. Had I looked different many would have considered me to be pole dancer doing her thing in a crowded bus. Bus route 235 had defined me quite well, it proved me that I am short and hence would have to carry out gymnastics and other stunts in front of bewildered co- passengers. For once the fact that I am thin paid me. I would be able to squeeze in between well-tiered aunties. I also had this obnoxious habit of thinking that someone was pinching from my bag when I would be inversely batting on the rod in a miraculously awkward position.

It also made me realise that the bus was the modern day wooing ground for all my school going desperate fellows. The rather cute chick would perch herself up on the seat; (these chicks would amazingly find seats in a crowded bus. Man, they were smart!) The lanky boy with a fair-and-handsome face and a goatish beard would stare wide eyed with a flossed smile while the girl would giggle gleefully till perpetuity. The boy would almost look like a salivating puppy. I wonder what they’d gawk at so much. But I guess they are just like me.

I have also been the victim of gallons of puke, not once but thrice. Nowadays I avoid sitting beside such perpetually excreting broods. And of course every single girl in the bus has been a victim to that clan of men who have an excessively uncontrollable libido and perennially ogling eyes, though I have not come under their scrutiny much mercifully, I’ve seen quite a few coming under the scanner. It must be some sort of a malady. They must have had very strict mothers when they were young and blooming and hence couldn’t do a bit of the thingummy that is so vital and indispensable for the budding men.

I would usually pass my time in the jalopy looking outside instead of taking note of my co-passengers like most do. My nonchalant attitude was often chastised by the conductors because I would ignore their calls for ticket. Most likely, my journey in 235 has come to an end. I am glad though I will miss the bus. It brought some excitement to my lackadaisical life. But then, I have this hunch that I will have to hop onto the same bus and go through this same process when I get into college.